


The Chick Magnet

by freakishmatrix



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, Existential Crisis, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakishmatrix/pseuds/freakishmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thirty-something year-old disbarred lawyer Lexa leads a somewhat reclusive life when she meets a bubbly conservation scientist Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate any kind of feedback. So, please, stop by to say what worked, what didn't. I take constructive criticism well, so if you'd like to help me improve my writing, I'll welcome you with open arms. Thank you for reading!

Lexa couldn’t sleep. She had to keep a window open through the night, partially due to the warm spring weather, but if she was absolutely honest (and she would never admit this to anyone), it was a way to trick Lincoln to share the bed with her. Lexa hated the cold and had it been up to her, she would have never put herself in a position where she’d have to sleep under two blankets. Lincoln, on the other hand, physically couldn’t stand hot weather and stuffy rooms. On the nights when Lexa didn’t want to have a full auditory access to the street, he never came to her and preferred the solitude the couch provided.

Having Lincoln next to her relaxed Lexa, however the noise irritated the hell out of her even through the earplugs. She glanced at the clock - it was almost 3am, she’d been tossing and turning for almost two hours. She didn’t want to move from under the covers, but something had to be done about her sleep. She moved her arm searching her bedside table for her iPod, hoping she hadn’t forgotten to charge it. The motion disturbed Lincoln, who yawned and jumped off the bed, settling on the floor. Lexa squinted at the screen, the charge was 56%, praise the lord. She put the earphones in, found an ASMR playlist, and lay back. As a sooth male voice started whispering in her ears, she allowed herself to dream about a random girl kissing her neck and her arms touching Lexa’s sides. The male voice started to give her tingles. She couldn’t hear the street, she was one second away from falling asleep. 

Lexa woke up startled and sweaty. She could still hear the male voice in one of her earphones, the other one had dropped out of her ear in her sleep. She cursed under her breath, mad at herself for falling asleep with someone’s voice in her head. She felt fazed by her dream and tried to remember what had happened there. Something perilous, weapons, a chase, she tried to put things together, but the harder she tried, the less she could remember. Then she noticed Lincoln, who was standing by the bed with his head slightly tilted and a puzzled look on his snout.

It was 9 am. Lexa felt as if the pup could have given her another half an hour to sleep, but she got up anyway. Without saying anything she walked to the bathroom and cursed under her breath when she saw that she had forgotten to clean off her make-up again. Lincoln cautiously followed her into the bathroom, though he knew that Lexa didn’t do mornings and wouldn’t be exactly over the moon to see him hurrying her up, however he also needed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep on the toilet, because he wanted to have his own bathroom break outside. 

Before Lexa could function, she needed to take a double shot of espresso. One gulp made her realize she was up and standing in her kitchen, another gulp made her truly awake. She looked at Lincoln and smiled, “Morning, puppy boy! Jus’ gimme five, k?” She quickly brushed her teeth, changed into black skinny jeans, a dark grey sweater, black sneakers and a black coat, and put a leash on Lincoln. She double-checked that she had her phone and poop bags with her, grabbed some treats for the dog and they were out of the door.

As they skipped downstairs, Lexa tried to figure out where to go. All Lincoln’s friends walked before 8, so there was no way anyone would be at the dog park by the Modern Art Museum’s conservation facilities. They could walk around the block, but that was boring. Lexa was not sure she wanted to give Lincoln the power to decide where to go, but then she had never been a follower of the dominance theory so she saw no harm in letting her teenage pup be the leader this morning. He dragged her to a small park surrounded by apartment buildings, which Lexa didn’t really like going to in the mornings because Lincoln got overly excited, and she needed to make a lot of effort almost first thing in the morning. 

The chipper dog was pulling her down the park path and Lexa kept asking him nicely to stop, until she lost her temper and pulled him back with a lot of force and controlled anger. She commanded him to stay before they continued on their walk. However, all the training went over Lincoln ears, and he set off to run after a misplaced plastic bag. Before Lexa could furiously yell at him to stop, she saw a blonde, who seemed visibly uncertain about how to proceed her walk given Lincoln’s inadequate behavior. 

“Sorry, he’s friendly, don’t worry!” yelled Lexa to the stranger. 

“I can see that,” she answered with a half smile, looking at Lincoln who had seized the bag and was now tearing it apart with a happy grin. 

Lexa was not sure whether she should continue this social interaction. The blonde didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave them, yet she was definitely overdressed for a leisure walk in the park. Lexa had a hard time figuring out what job would have you wear a scarlet tie with tiny giraffes on. 

The stranger observed Lincoln for a moment and then asked, “What breed is he?” 

It always amazed Lexa to hear that question because he was a very distinctive dog. 

“A Bull Terrier.” 

But then again, maybe the lady was not a dog person. Then why did she stop in the middle of a Friday morning to talk to her? 

“I have to go to work,” said the blonde. 

“Of course,” Lexa answered bluntly. 

The woman looked her straight in the eyes, which made Lexa feel weird, as if she was supposed to know her from somewhere. She smiled uncomfortably back at her, and then the blonde was gone.

Ever since Lexa got a ten-week-old Lincoln last January, she had to engage in small talk with random strangers all the time. At first, people found him adorable, but now that he was a full-grown bull terrier, Lexa noticed that people were scared of him and she became very protective of her little man. 

The stranger didn’t comment either way, so Lexa was left slightly puzzled about the encounter. As they walked back home from the park, she kept thinking about that look the blonde had given her. 

“Was she hitting on me, whatcha think?” Lexa asked Lincoln. 

She was absolutely oblivious to that kind of things. 

After giving Lincoln his breakfast, Lexa reluctantly sat at her desk and opened her MacBook. She had a legal translation due Monday, and even though Lexa enjoyed working from home, she missed being a lawyer. She gazed at Lincoln, who was curled up in a ball on a couch, let out an envy sigh and got to work. 

Around 4pm Lexa got a heavy buzz in her head and had to stop translating. One of the things her former law career had taught her was working for hours on end. Lincoln looked at her with hope and a smile, which got to her all the time. She was thinking of grabbing a bite, but instead packed a granola bar and an apple for herself, a ball, a water bottle, and turkey treats for the pup, and they were off to the dog park.

They took a long route because Lexa wanted Lincoln to have a proper walk before he could play with his friends. Besides, most of them didn’t come to the park before 5. When they arrived, it was too early for anyone to be there, so Lexa tried to teach Lincoln to play fetch. The puppy, however, was more interested in investigating the smells left by other dogs.

“Not much of a player, is he, huh?”

Lexa heard a woman chuckle at yet another failed attempt to get Lincoln to keep his attention on the ball. Her annoyance disappeared once she turned around to see the blonde from this morning standing a few feet away.

“Hi!” was all Lexa could muster.

“Hi!” echoed the blonde.

Lexa tried to think of a clever comeback. _Do you always stalk people with dogs? Are you interested in me or my dog?_ _Attack him and you attack me._ But while all the thoughts were racing each other in her head, she was standing completely unfazed, staring at the blonde, not blinking, her mouth closed, her jaw clenched. She felt as if this was getting uncomfortable, yet she couldn’t do anything to break the silence.

“I work here,” the blonde pointed at the conservation facility. “I was on my way home but recognized the dog.”

Lexa wondered if the blonde might have sensed a hostile vibe and felt she needed to justify her actions. Lexa wanted to give her a friendly smile, but she realized her face was still frozen. She wanted to say something, to introduce herself at the very least, but her mouth remained closed, and the jaw was tightly clenched. She was afraid the blonde would take this as a “go-away” hint. To her surprise, the woman just squinted her eyes with a slight turn of the head and extended her right hand.

“I’m Clarke.”

“Lexa,” she shook Clarke’s hand.

 _Now what?_ Lexa wondered in her head.

Luckily for her, Lincoln’s friend German Shepherd Otto came in and started wrestling with Lincoln.

“They always greet each other like that.”

“Oh, I was worried they’re fighting.”

“No, it just seems that way, in fact, they are the best of buds. No one can match their level of energy.”

At that moment Otto let out a growl, and Clarke looked concerned.

“They are fine, don’t worry.”

The dogs started chasing each other. Lexa instinctively reached out for Clarke’s arm and motioned her to step out of their way. Embarrassed when she realized that she was holding on to a stranger, she said, “They don’t look where they run and can easily crash into your knees.”

Clarke smiled as if she didn’t mind Lexa’s touch. She held her intense gaze, which gave Lexa a blush. She felt her heart stopped beating for a second, until she realized that Otto’s Mom was approaching them with an older woman. They exchanged their hellos.

“Have you seen a small mutt? This woman has lost her dog,” Otto’s Mom said.

Lexa glanced at Clarke, whose face was so full of empathy and concern.

“No, we haven’t, sorry,” said Lexa before the women walked away looking for the dog.

“We need to help them,” said Clarke.

“No, we don’t. That woman has been coming here ever since I got Lincoln more than a year ago. At this point I’m not sure there is a dog. I’m suspecting dementia.”

“How horrible!” exclaimed Clarke.

“Color me cynical but there is not much we can do even if she did in fact lose her dog more than a year ago.”

“No, I mean how horrible it is not to remember that you don’t have a dog. Imagine suddenly realizing you’ve lost your pooch that probably died of an old age twenty years ago!”

“You think that’s horrible?” Lexa gave her a pensive look.

For some reason she wanted to share something personal with this complete stranger, but she felt that the desire came from a dark place, mixed with irritation at Clarke’s outburst of empathy. She decided to go on nonetheless.

“Back home, when I was a child, I had a friend, Costia.” The memory was painful, so Lexa swallowed and clenched her jaw for a moment.

“We were best friends. She used to come over all the time and play with my dogs. My family kept working huskies.” The memory of her babies and the sweet smell of home made her smile a genuine smile, which took Clarke by surprise.

“Huskies?” Clarke echoed.

“Yes. They shed a lot, though, and Costia’s stepmother was allergic to dogs. We called her _the Ice Queen_. She forbade Costia to come over, claiming that she brought my dogs’ hair on her clothes. Costia loved the pups. She wanted to have her own, but, of course, she couldn’t. One day she started this game where she pretended her mitten was a dog. It got a bit out of hand, and other children made fun of her. I tried to protect her from the bullying, but one day the Ice Queen decided that Costia had completely lost her mind, and they moved away.”

Lexa hadn’t thought about Costia in so long that it felt as if she was retelling a movie plot. She looked at Clarke with a challenge, but really she just felt emotional and didn’t want to talk anymore.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” offered Clarke.

“Thanks.”

“Have you ever heard from her again?”

“Nope.” Lexa really punched that “p”.

Luckily, Lincoln ran to her rescue, his tongue all white and hanging from his mouth. Lexa reached for his water bottle and saw an apple in her bag. Suddenly, she realized how hungry she was, and her stomach gave out an embarrassingly loud rumble. She offered Clarke an apple, which she politely refused, put away Lincoln’s bottle and started gnawing at the apple, so hungry she didn’t bother with the manners anymore.

Besides saying hello to the owners of more dogs that came to play, Lexa kept silent. After some time, Clarke took in air as if she was about to say something, and Lexa felt sad that Clarke might leave, yet relieved because she didn’t understand why Clarke stayed in the first place. She wanted to ask directly, but Clarke beat her to it.

“I’m gonna go. You two have a good evening.”

“Thanks.” Lexa’s heart sank a little bit, like when the party’s over, and you’re tired, and you know you need to go home, but you still don’t want to. She looked straight into the blonde’s blue eyes. “You too.”

“I’ll see you around.”

And in a bold move that took even Lexa herself by surprise, she replied, “I hope so.” Clarke stopped in her tracks, but Lexa, realizing that she had just given away too much, avoided looking at her and instead mumbled, “Bye!” and shifted her gaze to Lincoln chasing Otto.


	2. Chapter 2

One thing that drove Lexa’s mind in obsessive circles was not understanding people’s motivations. Not only did she dislike irrationality and illogical arguments, she would fixate on them. Clarke made no sense to her. She obviously didn’t know how to read dog behavior, which made Lexa doubt that Clarke had ever had a dog, yet she had chosen to hang out with her at the dog park. Lexa knew that this nagging thought would not go away on its own, so she googled the museum’s department of conservation hoping to find Clarke’s contact. Instead she found a list of 14 departments within the department.

Now, how would she explain how she had found her in case she asked? _Oh, I just looked through all 14 departments on the website, no biggie!_

The prospect of embarking on this labor-intensive venture made Lexa realize that she was just mildly curious about the blonde, yet she took a sip of chocolate chai and started browsing through the site anyway. Only when the room got dark and Lincoln started whining signaling his boredom, did Lexa notice that she’d been reading too much about the X-ray fluorescence. She looked away from the computer and tried to retrace her steps.

Due to the nature of Lexa’s work, it was not uncommon for her to read about things beyond the scope of her own interests. Unless it was a simple contract, the translation had as much to do with the law as _Slaughterhouse-Five_ had to do with killing animals.

She felt embarrassed when she remembered what she had been looking for. She closed her notebook and leaned back in her chair, reevaluating her interest in Clarke, while petting Lincoln. To his buoyant delight, she decided she needed some air to get her mind off things that didn’t matter.

The next week was as routine as any. Lexa got more translations and pressing deadlines. She walked with Lincoln three times a day, but didn’t hope or expect to see Clarke, who by the end of the week had become just another person who stopped to chat to her about her adorable puppy. Yet, as far as Lexa recalled, Clarke had been the only one who had introduced herself.

On Friday Lexa worked really hard not to let any of the translations hang over her head during the weekend. She planned to spend some quality time with Lincoln and Netflix on the couch in the next two days. When she was done proofreading her last project, she raised her eyebrow at the dog and said in a dead serious tone, “Would you care to join me on a promenade, sir?”

They didn’t go to the dog park right away, but took a long route and then walked around the museum building. That was where Lexa saw her, with another woman, walking from the main entrance. Clarke was pretty, she thought, though she was not attracted to blondes. She was slim but with feminine curves. She was wearing tight clothes, no extravagant giraffes this time, but her grey long sleeve v-neck had a very risky cleavage.

For a moment Lexa hesitated calling her and almost decided against it, when Clarke noticed her and gave her a warm smile. Lincoln got impatient when instead of going to play with other dogs he had to wait for no good reason.

“I’m surprised you remembered me,” said Lexa.

“You are hard to forget,” replied Clarke. “And by you, I mostly mean the pooch,” she quickly added as Lexa raised her right eyebrow.

“Do you actually like dogs?” Lexa gestured to impatient Lincoln to stay.

“Not really!” Clarke chuckled. “I’m scared of them, to be perfectly honest with you, but yours is adorable.”

“Oh yeah, he’s a real chick magnet!” Lexa winked at Lincoln.

“You’re going to the park?”

“Yeah, wanna come?” Lexa asked just to be polite.

They walked in silence. Lexa was fidgeting with the leash.

“What’s his name?”

“Lincoln. A tribute to my outraged twelve-year-old self, who read _Gone with the Wind_ and decided that the US history is the epitome of injustice and prejudice.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“I was in love with Scarlett, which fueled my extensive research into the time period. Learning about Abe Lincoln made me want to become a lawyer. And President.”

The dog park was completely silent because Lincoln was sniffing around completely alone. Lexa wondered why Clarke wasn’t asking if she had indeed become a lawyer when she grew up. Clarke seemed to be pondering over something.

“I wanted to become a surgeon like my mother. I took all the AP classes, was a national chemistry olympiad finalist, busted my butt in college, did research work before I went to med school. I was in my third year of internship when I messed it all up.”

Suddenly she stopped firing angry bullets of words and looked at her hands. She proceeded to speak more slowly, as though she was choosing her words very carefully.

“A friend of mine thought that I should see an outside counsel. He set up a meeting because I was paralyzed by the nightmare my life seemed to have become. After so many years, you know.”

She shook her head and swallowed hard.

“Anyway, I went to see a lawyer, she turned out to be a fighter, exactly what I thought I needed. Things didn’t go to court but my hospital fired me. I couldn’t find any hospital to continue my internship at. And that was it.”

Lexa felt uncomfortable at Clarke’s oversharing. Though intrigued by what Clark might have done, Lexa knew she wasn’t ready to extend a reciprocal gesture, so she felt she had no right to intrude on her privacy. She just shrugged and shook her head in bemusement.

“I might’ve killed someone,” said Clarke very quiet and very slowly.

Lexa’s face didn’t change. She didn’t want to push for details. She didn’t want details. She wouldn’t be able to explain her own actions that led to her temporary disbarment. It was unethical but something she had felt needed to be done. She cared too much and put people she loved in danger. Her weakness cost her, and she would be happy not to think about the past. She felt Clarke’s situation might have been the same.

Lexa seized Clarke up and peered at her, wondering how this innocent-looking blonde could be a potential murderer. Then she looked within herself and realized that sometimes we just do what we feel we have to do.

“My lawyer’s name was Anya,” said Clarke out of the blue, and she stared intensely at Lexa, who felt a spike of chill run down her whole body.

“Anya Grounder?”

“Yes. She told me you’d be her second chair.”

Lexa felt as though she was losing the grip on reality. _Was this a setup?_ She didn’t remember working that case, she didn’t remember Clarke, she’d never worked a medical malpractice case, and she would remember a blonde intern who thought she _might’ve killed someone_.

“I never worked your case,” was all she said harshly.

“I know.” Clarke gave her a faint smile.

“Then how do you know it was supposed to be me?” Lexa was more bewildered than ever, searching her memory for any traces of Clarke. Establishing a timeline would be helpful, but she didn’t have a reference point.

“Because we got introduced.”

“It can’t be true, I would’ve remembered you.” Lexa uttered without thinking, still running search in her head.

The truth was, Lexa could barely remember people who had worked at the firm with her. She wouldn’t be able to recall the faces of half of her former clients. She did know all of their cases by heart, remembered every trial, could recite verbatim most of her closing arguments, but on numerous occasions she would bump into her own clients or key witnesses and not recognize them so it had almost developed into a phobia. In her former life, she had looked people in the eyes to intimidate them, not to make a connection or admire their features. Even when she was looking for signs of weakness, she would take in sweating, scratching of an ear, difficulty swallowing, not the whole face.

“When was it?”

“About two years ago.”

_Of course it was_! Was it Lexa’s turn to be honest? She really didn’t owe Clarke anything.

She realized that with this unpleasant walk down the memory lane she had absolutely no idea what Lincoln was up to. He was bored alone, chewing on a plastic bottle.

“Lincoln, drop it!” yelled Lexa.

The pup ignored her.

“You little devil!” Lexa went after him. Lincoln saw that as a play opportunity and started running away. “You lil’ …” She suddenly came to a halt and marched back to Clarke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have an opportunity to work on your case. I had my hands full with a major class action.”

“It’s fine, I just thought I’d be upfront with you. I stopped to talk to you because I thought I recognized you, and I was surprised a lawyer could keep leisurely hours.”

_It was now or never._

“I’m not a lawyer anymore.”

It was Clarke’s turn not to ask for details. She pursed her lips and gave an awkward smile.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a certified translator. German and Spanish.”

“Do you miss practicing law?”

“Yes, but I will return when my suspension is over.” She knew that, just like Clarke, she’d be unwelcome by the industry but she couldn’t think of that without seeing a black void her life would be. Law gave her purpose.

“Look, I have to go but would you like to have a drink some time?” Clarke interrupted her thoughts.

“Sure,” answered Lexa noncommittally.

And then it hit her that she had just been asked out. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times someone actually had asked her out. When she was younger, she thought it was due to her being a nerd. In college and law school she told herself that it was because people were scared of her competitiveness and brains. When she joined the firm, she worked so hard on gaining the reputation of one of the most ruthless and intimidating lawyers in the state, that she stopped expecting anyone to ever ask her out.

Clarke handed her a business card.

“Clark Griffin, conservation scientist,” Lexa read out loud with snide excitement.

“I analyze what materials are used in the production of art,” Clarke replied defensively.

“Production of art? That’s a clinical way to put it.” Lexa sneered.

“I dissect art.” Clark played along with a smirk.

_While, in fact, you want to be dissecting bodies._ Lexa simpered, happy with the change of topic.

Later on her way home, she started wondering whether all the choices we make in life are rooted in our childhood, and we remain haunted by the things we wanted as children. She thought that maybe it was time to let go of law and instead of doing her time and waiting for the suspension to be over, to find a new purpose in life. She had absolutely no idea what she wanted. There’s got to be more to it than work and walking Lincoln. She looked at the pup apologetically.

“You’re the cutest little pumpkin,” she said out loud. “But I’m afraid, serving a dog is not a good purpose.” He tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look.

Instead of catching up on _House of Cards_ , Lexa got under a throw blanket with Kurt Vonnegut and a cup of hot cocoa. Rereading _The Sirens of Titan_ had always made her feel better about life. Its pages had yellowed with time and bore coffee cup stains left by the previous owners; many lines were underlined and some were highlighted. The inside front cover was full of handwritten quotes.

_A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved_ , one of them said in a black Sharpie.

Lexa didn’t remember what it felt like to love someone. She wasn’t a fool to confuse it with being in love. She thought of how Clarke had been able to hold her gaze without blinking, the fact that she had remembered her from a brief encounter two years ago, the odds of her coming for counsel to save her career exactly when Lexa was going through her final case, and it made her ticklish.

_It’s probably because she’s new and interested in me for some reason_ , Lexa thought. She took Clarke’s card from her back pocket and created a new contact on her iPhone. She didn’t text or call. She put away the phone and turned on Netflix.

_Love is an illusion created by the brain. It gives people an idea that they are on a good side while they play their games killing time on this planet. It’s how they justify sex, it’s how they justify their crimes.There is no love; there is the human ego and survival of the fittest._

And with that thought, Lexa started watching the latest season of _House of Cards_.

After the scene where the Solicitor General argued in front of the Supreme court, Lexa paused the video. She turned her head away from the TV and sat in numbness for a few minutes staring at her color-coded bookcase. She would make a deal with herself. There was less than a year left on her suspension. If she managed to find a new purpose by Christmas, she’d give it a go. However, if no matter what she did, she’d still think she’d be happier as a lawyer, she’d fight tooth and nail for it.

Lexa moved to her desk and searched for Clarke on Facebook. She smiled when she recognized her face in the profile picture. Clarke was wearing glasses. Her blonde wavy hair seemed longer and bigger. She looked like a college hipster girl, so different from an extravagant yuppie Lexa met in the park. Lexa scrolled down her page, expecting nothing to filter through the privacy setting, however Clarke’s page seemed to be pretty public. Her countless YouTube posts collected hundreds of likes.

_What the hell?_

Lexa clicked on a random video. It was a tutorial on how to draw Earth from space set to The Killers. Lexa was mesmerized by confident strokes, meticulous attention to details, the beauty of the final result. Watching Clarke’s hand create an almost photographic copy of the planet with a pencil gave Lexa shivers. When she went to Clarke’s channel wanting to find videos with her voice, she saw that Clarke also posted fun science experiments, complete with commentary. Hearing Clarke’s raspy voice and watching her handle chemicals just as well as pencil gave her tingles from her brain down her spine. Not only was Clarke easy on the eyes, she was crazy talented and brilliantly smart.

Lexa friended Clarke in a heartbeat. Whatever tristesse she might’ve had about the way her life was going had been lifted, and Lexa caught herself being infatuated with the image of Clarke she’s created in her head.

An alert sound jerked Lexa out of the meditation on her thoughts about the predicament she got herself into. She glanced at the clock, it was just past 1am, and Clark had just accepted her friend request.

“Saw your youtube channel. You’re good.”

“Thanks! What are you doing up so late?”

“Watching _House of Cards_.”

“Didn’t it come out more than a month ago?”

“I didn’t have time.”

“I watched it the first weekend.”

“With all the drawing and blowing stuff up on camera you have time to watch a whole season in one weekend?”

“What do YOU do at the weekend?”

“I read.”

“Read what?”

What she was reading was a never-ending story of sulk and pain mixed with determination and tenacity, which was legal ethics. It made her feel stronger but not happy. She wanted to snap out of her gloom, so she resolved to not talking about herself.

“Fiction. How come a talented artist like you was training to become a doctor?”

“It runs in my family. Besides, why settle on one thing when you can do both?”

“Do you paint?”

“I do. If you ever come over, I’ll show you my private art gallery.”

The idea stirred up a thrill of excitement. Lexa rolled her eyes at how easily she became aroused by an Internet illusion, yet she was in a flirtatious mood.

“Maybe I will. Though before, how about I take you up on your offer? A drink, tomorrow?”

“I wanted to check out one gallery tomorrow, modern art, nothing fancy, free admission. Will you be interested? Or we can meet up afterwards.”

“Gallery’s fine.”

“How does fivish sound? 1316 Broadway, Showz Gallery.”

“Sounds great, see you there, Clarke.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa arrived at the gallery five minutes to five. An empty hall had huge glass windows and simple wooden benches. The air was saturated with the bitter smell of strong coffee.

_This is not a date,_ she tried to calm herself down _. Then why did you go full-on heroin chic? Let’s try not to wake up with raccoon eyes in the morning._

To calm her nerves, she started reciting _The Bill of Rights_ in the descending order. Clarke showed up when no soldier would be quartered without the owner’s permission.

“I’m sorry, I got held up.”

She unbuttoned her grey princess coat to reveal a dark blue high waist dress. Complete with black round-toe pumps and a matching clutch, her outfit looked both sexy and sophisticated. For a moment Lexa had second thoughts about her own all-black casual attire, but then she remembered that _this wasn’t a date_.

They went around the gallery that was showcasing young artists’ work. Some of it was bizarre to an extreme, like the paintings of snowmen, which made Lexa throw her hands into the air and laugh out loud. _That’s one phobia she didn’t need!_

She looked around searching for Clarke, who was standing behind her. Clarke pointed at a lonely snowman in the playground eating a carrot that used to be his own nose. She rotated her index finger at her temple and mouthed, “Cuckoo.” It made Lexa giggle.

One of the artists painted women’s bodies from the neck to their thighs. Most of his work had been done in red and black ink. Lexa didn’t know whether she was supposed to walk along with Clarke or do what seemed natural to her. At the moment she was staring at one of the red naked women trying to narrow down what exactly the purport of the series was supposed to be.

Clarke joined her silently. Lexa turned her head to look at her facial expression but Clarke was hard to read. Lexa sized her up and smiled a genuine smile. Her _not date_ was gorgeous in that dress. Her perfume smelled like freshly watered flowers. Lexa decided she would shadow Clarke from now on in case she wanted to share something.

Occasionally, Lexa had an urge to touch one of the paintings, to feel the oil on the canvas, which made her feel immature. She really wanted Clarke to think that she appreciated art but she felt awkward in this place. She watched her from the corner of her eye, curious what’s going on in her head. However, she never asked the question she dreaded herself. By the time the visit to the amateurs’ show was over, Lexa was more than ready for the promised drink.

She realized that they had spent almost an hour barely talking, and that was the first with Clarke. Lexa didn’t like it how suddenly Clarke felt like a total stranger, yet she was intrigued by this new alter ego in pumps.

When they sat down in a bar at a four-star hotel Clarke asked, “You don’t like fine art?” She didn’t have to raise her voice at all over the mild buzz of chatter and lounge music.

“I know what I like and that wasn’t it.” Lexa wasn’t sure if she felt like aperitif or hard liquor.

“What is _it_ then?”

“Renascence. Or anything else for that matter as long as it is served in Italy.” She’d have Prosecco.

“You travelled a lot?”

“One time I went around Europe when I did a semester abroad in Oxford. You?”

“Only locally.”

“You have to go to Italy, Clarke. And not just because you’re an artist, but food and wine,” she brought the fingers of her right hand together, lifted it to her mouth and rolled her eyes, “ _buonissimo_!”

“You speak Italian?”

The waiter took their order. Two Bellinis.

“I picked up some on the road. Though seriously, you have to visit Rome for the city, atmosphere, culture, food, bars… Florence for the Uffizi, Milan for nightlife and Venice just to say you’ve been there.”

“I thought Venice was supposed to be the most beautiful city on the planet.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Clarke. To me, it’s Rome.”

The waiter brought their cocktails in champagne flutes.

“Though Venice has a lot to offer,” she raised her glass. “Case in point.”

Clarke raised her glass in return.

“To the places we’ve been to and to those we shall soon visit,” toasted Lexa.

They both took a sip and put their glasses on the table. Lexa started fiddling with the stem of her champagne flute.

“Where would you like to go?” Clarke asked.

“I think Japan is fascinating but I have to learn at least some Japanese before I go.”

“Why don’t you do it now?”

_Because I don’t want to commit to something I can’t finish._

Lexa shrugged.

“Have you ever wanted to go anywhere?” she asked.

“I was thinking of going to art school in Europe.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Medicine.”

“So go now!”

“I can’t just drop my life and go.”

“You’re not going to space! Just art school.”

“I wanted to go to Florence.”

“Though I support your desire for Italy wholeheartedly, isn’t there something more local? Institute of fine arts? A studio with evening classes?”

“I was just dreaming of Florence. I don’t even know if there is an art school.”

“In Florence?” Lexa almost spilled her wine. “Like I said, you should go. And if you want to, you must go. Better yet, forget you ever wanted to be a surgeon, imagine you’re 20 and just be an artist.”

“I’m not twenty, Lexa.”

“Your Facebook picture says otherwise. You were born for this, Clarke. Holding on to your past robs you of your present.”

“I’m not holding on to anything.”

“You’re working for a museum, except you’re a scientist. I’d say that’s holding.”

“What about you? What do you want?”

“I want to practice law again.”

“How long till then?”

“About nine months.”

“Enough to do something meaningful.” Lexa detected a note of disapproval.

_And that’s what I intend to do._

“I don’t have an artistic talent, I don’t make videos that collect billions of likes!”

“I don’t collect billions!”

“Whatever. I just lie low till I can be useful.”

“You still can be if you want to. What do you want now?”

The idea of going there was exhausting like pushing a broken cart full of bricks up the hill, but _hey, no one expected soul-searching to be a walk in a park!_

“Nothing. I want to be inspired to want something.”

They sipped their cocktails in awkward silence.

“Did you finish House of Cards?”

Though Lexa knew that Clarke was merely trying to make conversation, she still sneered.

“Realistically, when would I?”

“What did you do this morning?”

“Walked the pup and read Bluebeard.”

“The fairy tale?”

“No, Kurt Vonnegut.”

“Your favorite author?”

“I’d say. Yours?”

“I don’t have one in particular. Right now I like Rumi.” Clarke searched for something in the yellow bottom of her drink.

Lexa gave her a mistrusting look. For as much as she _wanted_ Rumi to be Clarke’s favorite author, her experience said she missed the mystical mark completely.

“What do yo like about him?”

“His love poetry.”

“You do know it’s about God?”

“He wrote about a woman.”

“And a man. And everyone and their brother. But in fact, it’s all about the inner self connected to everyone comprising God.”

“How do you know all that?”

“He was a Sufi.”

Clarke questioned her with the narrowed eyes.

“ _The beloved is everywhere_. Like Kurt Vonnegut said, _a purpose of human life is to love whoever is around to be loved._ ”

“Were you an English major or something?”

“Psychology. Like I said, I read fiction.” Then Lexa added teasingly, “So, Rumi and Harry Potter?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I took a course on how to spot Harry Potter fans. That and the fact that you brewed a love potion on your channel.”

“That was a Valentine’s special.”

Lexa was feeling a nice buzz. She got more comfortable on the couch.

“Do you have a special Valentine?”

Clarke looked up with a spark of curiosity ( _or was it alcohol?_ ) and shook her head no. Lexa gave a wan smile and had a sip.

“So, which Hogwarts house are you?” Lexa gestured to the waiter to bring two more Bellinis.

“I’m Griffin-dor,” Clarke grinned ear to ear.

“How smartass of you.”

“And you’re Ravenclaw?” Clarke’s words made Lexa sit up taller. “And you take a lot of pride in that, don’t you!” Clarke laughed. “I had a Raven friend in college. She was an engineering major. I swear, sometimes she got off on the nerdiest geekiest things, and she could care less that no one understood her.”

“I’m sure it was not true, Clarke. People want to be understood. And if they are not, they grow thick skin and laugh it off.”

“Spoken from experience?”

“Not really. The climb to the top is at the heart’s core of our nation. Once you’re there though, it’s a whole different game. But I wouldn’t know.”

“It’s a game to you, Lexa.” Clarke wasn’t asking. And for a second Lexa felt as though she had been made.

“Life is a game, Clarke. We are taught that the winner takes it all.”

“What about family, relationships, love?”

“Love? Love is just a game. Unless it’s Rumi’s kind of love.”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why do you think everything else is a game, except that?”

“Everybody pays attention to pictures of people. No one pays attention to people. Love is connecting the souls. Human love is superficial, however.”

“So, what is the purpose of your life, Lexa?”

“It used to be law, now it’s waiting to be a lawyer again.”

“Why is it so important to you to be a lawyer?”

“Why is it so important to you to be a doctor, Clarke?”

“It’s not. You say I’m holding on to the past but you can’t live your own life without law. You pretend you want nothing but to get back to work. I might be a hypocrite, Lexa, but you are a liar. You want things, you have desires and they have nothing to do with law.”

It was spoken with such conviction that for a moment Lexa was lost for air. Clarke took the charge, and despite the relentlessness of her words, Lexa felt strong attraction to the other woman.

“I have to go walk Lincoln.” Lexa rose from her sit, searching for her wallet in her shoulder bag.

“You’re running away from yourself.”

“I’m not. On the contrary.”

“Then stay.”

Clarke’s tone didn’t hold any signs of plea. She was sitting straight, chin up looking Lexa in the eye, her lips slightly curved up. Lexa’s defenses lowered on the spot.

“I’ll give you one more drink,” she surrendered with a smile and lowered herself back on the sofa.

“Dinner.”

“No, Clarke, a drink. I really have to get home soon.”

“Sheesh, you’re harsh,” said Clarke after their drinks had been served.

“You think I’m harsh? But that’s what gives me faith; otherwise there’d be no point in playing this game.”

“Are you talking about suicide?”

“There is no death, Clarke. Only reincarnation into a different body and then you continue playing this game.”

“Reincarnation? You believe in it?”

“I do.”

“So, there is no murder?”

“Oh, there is murder, except not for the victim.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke frowned.

“Think about it. The victim’s soul just reincarnates and their new body doesn’t remember what the murderer has done, but the killer goes on and what they’ve done will haunt them until the end of their days.”

Lexa raised her hands palms up as if balancing the fates of the killer and the victim.

“Do you think it’s possible to remember your former life?”

“I really don’t know, Clarke.”

“In a dream, maybe?”

“I wouldn’t know if it’s my former life but I definitely dream of something.”

“I get serial dreams. Like, wars and gas attacks and bomb shelters.”

“I dream of woods and cutting people with a sword.”

“Do you think it means something?”

“I know it means nothing to me. Except maybe I should get out of the city more and take up martial arts. I’m sure Lincoln would love to go to the country.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t have a car.”

“I have a car.”

“Whatcha doin’ next weekend?” Lexa asked playfully, biting at her lower lip and cautiously raising both eyebrows.

“Driving you to the woods. Please, keep your swords at home, ok?” Clarke laughed.

Lexa smirked at her cheek.

They bantered a bit more till Lexa decided she had to go before she did anything drastically stupid. She felt tipsy. Sparkling wines did that to her. She remembered that she forgot to have lunch. She hated drinking on an empty stomach. _Why didn’t I say yes to dinner?_ She thought that whatever they chose to do the following weekend should include food.

Later, when content Lincoln curled up in a ball on his bed, Lexa stood with a mug of hot tea looking outside into the bright lights of the city. She wished she could have turned off her head and focus on the process rather than the result. She burned her tongue on her scorching tea, but she didn’t care. She thought that maybe if she dared to dream and didn’t overthink every detail for once, her ego would blossom into a spirit capable of more than just mere existence. That was a tall order.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Lexa buzzed Clarke in the following Saturday morning, she had made sure her loft looked spotless. On the way home from the morning walk, Lexa and Lincoln got freshly baked croissants and blueberry scones. She packed a duffel bag of dog’s things, everything from his food to a blanket, a beach towel and a specially bought for the occasion puppy seat belt. Most of the things were, quite honestly, just in case, but Lexa liked to be prepared for anything.

To her surprise, when she opened the door, it was not Clarke who she saw on the other end, but a young man with a manila envelope.

“Alexandria Komtrikru?”

Lexa’s heart soared with excitement at the forgotten sensation of being referred to by her full name. She motioned Clarke to come inside, who mouthed, “Alexandria?” in return. Lexa raised her eyebrow as if to say, _I’ll deal with you later_.

“You’ve been served,” the man handed her the envelope before disappearing.

“What’s that about?” asked Clarke when Lexa gently kicked the door shut.

“I’m being sued,” beamed Lexa reading the summons.

“And you’re happy?” Clarke was confused.

“What?” Lexa was excited like a child on a Christmas morning and nothing could distract her from it. “Do you want to drink something, coffee, tea? I have to make a quick phone call.”

She was fixing Clarke a cup of americano while waiting for a person on the other side to pick up. Clarke was sitting on a high stool at the kitchen island, looking around the loft. Lexa noticed that she held her gaze at the “Books turn muggles into wizards” poster for a while.

“Hey, did I wake you? I need a lawyer.”

“God, Lexa, what did you do?”

“Nothing, I’ll take care of it. I just want you to be the attorney of record.”

“What’s the case?”

“Dachshund’s degenerative disease caused by a playful bite.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“It is what it is. I’ll do the heavy lifting, though honestly, there is not much to lift. But I need you to represent me.”

“I’ll trust you but don’t eff me up, kid.”

“You’re the best, Anya, thank you!”

Excited Lexa passed the cup of coffee to perplexed Clarke and moved a bag of fresh croissants towards her. She excused herself and made another phone call to Otto’s mom to offer her joined defense, which she turned down apologizing and citing her attorney.

_This should be interesting. Let the backstabbing begin._

She made herself a cappuccino all the while telling Clarke about the dachshund Cage, who had been very obnoxious in the dog park once, and several dogs had run up to him to shut him up. However, from all of them only Lincoln and Otto were cited in the lawsuit. Lexa suspected that it was a case of breed discrimination.

“Apparently, they are one of the most dangerous breeds according to some, so this is absolutely prejudicial. Besides, the plaintiff wants me to pay for a spinal surgery that had nothing to do with the incident. I’ll argue for the dismissal.” Lexa paused and then corrected herself, “I mean, I’ll ask Anya to argue for the dismissal.”

She seemed to return to the reality of her situation. She realized that Clarke was beyond puzzled at her reaction, however, Lexa didn’t feel embarrassed or felt the need to apologize for possibly appearing maniac. What she was looking for in her friendship with Clarke was genuine connection and she didn’t want to fake who she was. She felt alive fighting the injustice, establishing the truth, making sure that people were treated fairly. And the fact that she got to be part of it again gave her power and purpose.

However, today was about Clarke and taking Lincoln out to have fun, so she packed the leftover baked goodies and some fruit for later, and they were off.

As Clarke presented her red Toyota Yaris, Lexa dropped her duffel bag on the ground and clasped a hand to her mouth. Somehow she thought the vehicle that would drive them out of the city would be an SUV, which would explain why Clarke didn’t use it in the city. Having a three-door tiny car for the puppy’s first ride was less than ideal, and Lexa had to rethink the dynamics of the process.

She gave Clarke the leash and climbed in the back of the car to cover the seat with the old blanket in case Lincoln had an accident of any kind. Then she lured the hyper dog with the treats and petted him while he was adjusting to the new environment. Clark was watching from the outside with a curious smile of a rookie. Lexa asked her to pass the bag and close the door, which Clarke took for the cue to go and got in the driver’s seat. However, Lincoln wasn’t ready. He started running across the seat, then tried to get on a passenger’s seat, licked Clarke’s ear and didn’t want to come to a calm sitting position.

It took Lexa another good ten minutes to lure Lincoln to lie down next to her. All the meanwhile she was wondering if Clarke was annoyed or uncomfortable, however, her own patience was running thin, and when she found it to be acceptable, she buckled her hyper pup up and gave Clarke the green light.

She did apologize for the amount of time it took, but added no more. Doing the most basic new things was sometimes exhausting with Lincoln, like putting a raincoat, washing him or applying the anti-flea drops. She would have to chase him around the loft and then hold him tight. Loving Lincoln changed her type A neurotic personality for a calmer person, however, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t feeling like a warm bath or at least a foot rub after even the smallest battle.

At first Lexa thought that she’d stay with the dog in the backseat till the nearest gas station and then would sit next to Clarke, but as she sprawled in the back, one hand holding on to Lincoln, who was leaving saliva drawings on the window, she thought that this was nice. Like a parent after a child’s fit, she needed a break in the vacuum of her thoughts.

Clarke glanced a few times in the rear-view mirror to see how things were going in the backseat but didn’t say anything. When Lexa returned, she noticed they were riding in complete silence, interrupted by Lincoln’s heavy breathing. The day was hot, and suddenly Lexa felt like going to the sea.

“Can we go to the water instead?” was the first thing she’d said in almost half an hour.

Clarke nodded and reprogrammed her navigator to take them to the lake. They continued in silence, which didn’t bother Lexa at all. If you can’t be silent with a person, then there is nothing to talk about. As the landscape began to change, Lexa started nodding off, so she asked Clarke to stop at the gas station to change sits. Instead Clarke found them a Starbucks drive-through, which gave Lexa an opportunity climb gracefully into the front seat. Lincoln got his first puppy latte of a lifetime and was at first confused what it was. Clarke had iced tea, while Lexa loaded on double doppio.

“I got up early for this,” she shrugged. _More like, I couldn’t sleep much, knowing you’ll come to my place._

Lexa finally started to have fun, fueled by an excess of caffeine, she offered to turn on music. She never listened to the radio so she laughed out loud when Clarke would sing along to ridiculously stupid pop songs.

They reached the lake and found a parking spot. Lexa took alert Lincoln out on a leash and asked Clarke to hold him while she fixed his breakfast. She explained that she hadn’t fed him before as a cautionary measure. There were no people on this side of a lake, so Lexa took Lincoln off the leash. She grabbed a bag of grapes from the car and they ventured out on the pebble shore.

The day was pleasantly warm. A cool breeze ruffled Lexa’s long hair. Irritated, she put it in a bun. They had walked for some time, when Clarke stopped and looked around.

“I wish there were a boat.”

“It’s not that kind of movie,” Lexa chuckled, also wishing there had been a boat indeed.

They agreed to make it there mission to find a boat. Lexa told how she used to go fishing back home up north. Frankly, she didn’t like it much but it gave her ties to her community and she got to take her dogs with her. Clarke had never been fishing but she liked the idea of sitting in a boat on an empty lake alone with her own thoughts. Lexa chuckled that one didn’t need to go fishing in order to do that.

Lincoln was enjoying his newfound freedom, when Clarke asked why he didn’t go into the water.

“I don’t think it’s his cuppa tea but we could try and make him.” Lexa was always up to a challenge. She took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans.

Once again, Lexa was luring the puppy with the treats from her pocket, and he was cooperating until the point his paws touched the stingingly cold water. Lincoln jumped back and ran out on the shore. However, Lexa wasn’t willing to give up so easily. As she attempted the trick a few more times, she felt frustration building up after each failure. She thought that it would be fun to have a dog that liked swimming. _Why was Lincoln so difficult?_ She grunted when she noticed that Clarke was filming the whole fiasco with her phone.

Lexa put the puppy on the leash and tried to lure him into the water again. Her goal was to make him stay in water, not swim, however even that small step seemed unattainable. Lexa trod carefully on the underwater pebble, training her gaze on the puppy for the signs of discomfort. Despite all her efforts she completely missed it when Lincoln pulled back for the shore, knocking Lexa face forward into the water.

“Jesus, bloody Mary and Joseph!”

The water might as well have been minus negative degrees. Not only was it cold but Lexa also hit her knee pretty hard on an underwater rock. She tried to stand up but her legs were cramping. _That’ll teach you to drag the puppy into the cold water._

When it became evident to Clarke that Lexa’s futile attempts to get herself out on the shore were getting her nowhere, she kicked off her sneakers and walked into the water. She seized Lexa by the hand and helped her get up, propping her with her body. Lexa’s left leg was cramping so agonizingly painful that she let out a weak shriek.

Once on the shore, Lexa sat on a large hot rock.

“This will be my drier,” she sneered.

Concerned Lincoln tried to climb next to her. The leash that Lexa released as she was falling was still attached to his harness. She helped Lincoln to get on the stone, took off his leash and squeezed him hard.

She was soaking wet below the waist, soggy jeans draining water on the hot pebbles that evaporated it almost immediately. Lexa contemplated it a bit but figured, modesty aside, she needed to get the jeans off and dry them a bit. Her naked skin revealed a huge bruise on her right knee.

“How’s your knee?”

“Hurts.”

“Can you move your leg?”

“Yes. It’s fine.” She felt as if she was telling this to Lincoln more than to Clarke.

“I have a first aid kit in my car.”

“It’s just a bruise, Clarke.”

They walked to the car when Lexa got a bit warmer. Clarke turned on the seat heaters and wrapped Lexa in a beach towel.

“Do you know if there is an H&M near by? I need pants.”

On the way back Lexa was mentally kicking herself for being such a klutz. She didn’t know what it was that they were doing with Clarke, however, she was sure that interrupting it by disgracefully getting injured in a slip and fall was not going to advance it well.

Lexa invited Clarke to come up to her apartment. She had mixed feelings of embarrassment and upcoming cold, both of which she knew how to kill with one shot. When she changed into dry clothes, she asked Clarke if she wanted to have a drink.

“I’m driving,” Lexa could hear a skosh of disappointment in Clarke’s voice.

“We can have a slumber party. I’m sure Lincoln will share the couch with you later.” Lexa made the cutest face she could produce and added a dash of puppy eyes. She was not beneath playing the suffering victim card just not to be drinking alone, but she hoped she would not have to go that far.

Clarke was considering the proposal but Lexa could feel it was going her way. She could always tell which way the judge and the jury swayed, so it was easy with Clarke. Lexa moved towards her bar before Clarke said anything.

“What will it be?”

“How big is your bar?”

“It’s a lawyer’s bar, Clarke.”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“It means I’ll have some Jack and you can have whatever it is that you want.”

Clarke wanted red wine.

“You have a nice apartment.”

“That’s why I don’t have a car anymore.” Lexa passed Clarke her glass and sat next to her on the couch.

She told her a very censored version of the aftermath of her suspension. The Jack made her mellow and she did not want to talk about the past much. She asked Clarke how her painting was going, and it turned out that Clarke had been sitting on some extraordinary news of her own this whole time. She had contacted _Showz_ gallery and asked them if she could show her work there. Now she had to select a few paintings for their consideration. She asked Lexa if she could stop by next Saturday.

“I’m having some people over for some cheese and wine to help me make the decision.”

Lexa accepted the invitation at once. Was it the Jack or just the idea of having a party, Lexa felt as if she was back in her student days. She missed that time. Not the exams or the cramming, but the idealism and the dreams, the fascinating period in life when you know what life’s made of. Also, being able to party and show up in the morning as if you hadn’t slept less than three hours, the sound of the leather armchairs in the library and the friends who get you.

She told all that to Clarke, who smiled and said that her life had not changed much since college, safe for a brief stunt at med school. She confessed that it had been pure hell and had she known that whether you saved people or you killed them was up to the lawyers to decide, she would have become a lawyer.

“Lawyers’ fate is in the hands of other lawyers. We’re like matryoshka dolls, waiting for someone to mess up. You’re better off being an artist.”

Suddenly Lexa realized that she was drinking on an empty stomach again. She picked a folder with take-away menus from the kitchen counter and tossed it to Clarke to choose. Clarke went with the Chinese.

The following morning Lexa woke up with a killer headache and a taste of something dead in her mouth. _What the…_ In an attempt to identify her disposition, she quickly sat up, which made her head spin. She was in her bed, the sun was shining and the clock on the wall showed 9AM. She attempted to recollect her memories from the night before.

_Fuck, Clarke!_

She was scared to look, but the body next to her belonged to Lincoln. Clarke was sleeping soundly on the couch. Lexa breathed a sigh of relief. She remembered walking and feeding Lincoln before having dinner. Talking about foreign language films and sci-fi shows that didn’t make any scientific sense. Lexa had promised to email Clarke a recipe of a perfect pasta. They had had a serious existential debate about Harry Potter, and Lexa had got a little bit carried away proving her point that there’s a whole different book written between the lines. Lexa chuckled remembering that. She saw several books lying on the floor by the couch amidst the empty take-away boxes. When she had got significantly more intoxicated, she had started going on and on about the dachshund’s case and all the reasons why it was a frivolous lawsuit. At the end of the night, she had made bed for Clarke on the couch. She even remembered finding her a spare toothbrush.

All in all, Lexa was pretty content with what she remembered of the previous night. She let her aching head touch the pillow for a little bit longer before tiptoeing to the kitchen to brew fresh coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to give Clarke Skoda Octavia for reasons too obvious to spell out, however my research showed that Skoda is not sold in the US. Even though I intentionally never mention the location of the story, I did allude to the States in a few places, therefore I had to give her a more realistic car.


End file.
